


in a restless world like this is

by orphan_account



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Canon-Typical References to Sexual Abuse, Case Fic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pining, Some Humor, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-20 17:05:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12437571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Carisi and Barba fake a relationship to catch a blackmailer. It goes about as well as you'd expect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi there! this came about because I set myself the challenge to plan and write ~10k in under a week, and is the first longish fic I've written in years, and while it's not 100% complete yet, I've actually got a full plan which I didn't last time, and I've written about 5k in 3 days so I think we're going fairly well. also I'm new to SVU, so please forgive me of any incorrect plot details. 
> 
> as always, please call me out on any mistakes, especially because I don't have a beta reader, and I think I'll have some spanish in this later, and I don't speak spanish at all (I only speak english and french lmao)
> 
> there may be a few issues with homophobia in this (i.e. the targets of the blackmail all being same-sex couples), but I'm a massive lesbian and I didn't think it was too bad but again idk
> 
> just a quick thank you to butihavejoy on tumblr for running through this and americanising it

Carisi had a headache.

The CFO of an accounting firm had been found dead three weeks before, apparently sexually assaulted following a fight. The ensuing investigation led not to a perpetrator, but to a secret partner – one Sergeant Freddie Bryant of the NYPD – and the two months of blackmail the couple had faced – someone with photos of them threatening to out them. It seemed like the partner had worked out who it was, and the confrontation had ended badly.

Bryant was distraught. Apparently he and Johnson – the victim – had a fight the night before, Johnson sleeping on the couch and leaving the next morning without saying goodbye. The next thing Bryant knew; he’d got a call from the hospital. Benson figured the suspect knew that was the most opportune moment to strike, the continuous nature of the photographs suggesting a stalking relationship.

Their search had only yielded more victims within the NYPD – all same-sex couples, one half in the NYPD, the other a fairly high-ranking civilian, all keeping up a secret relationship. They had connected them to the same restaurant between the hours of 7 and 10 in the evening, but the trail had run cold.

It was Amanda who had suggested an undercover operation, and Sonny had volunteered immediately on the logic that he was a similar age to many of the victims and that the majority of them being male.

They had come up short when it came to recruiting a civilian. While it was suggested that they used one of the team with an alias, Olivia pointed out that if the perpetrator was targeting members of the police force, there was no telling what they knew and the cover could be blown before the operation could even start.

They’d been running through various suggestions for over an hour.

Thank god for Barba.

He’d swung by the department to pick up some case files, and had apparently been eavesdropping the tail-end of their discussion.

“I’ll do it,” he said, leaning on the doorway.  Olivia frowned, and Barba interrupted before she could say anything. He walked over to the table. “I fit the profile. Carisi and I working together is a decent enough cover to work around without having to develop a whole new alias or bring in someone else.”

Sonny had a headache.

It was a little known fact that Sonny had a pretty prominent 'thing' - he hadn't cared to give it a label - for Rafael Barba. The only team member Carisi imagined knew was Amanda, and that was only because Sonny had spilled it when very drunk one night. The only reason he wasn’t _sure_ she knew was that she was very drunk as well.

Fin kicked out a chair and gestured for Barba to sit. He did.

Olivia handed him her file. “This is Bellucci’s. It’s an Italian restaurant and wine bar on the Upper West Side. High-class, expensive. We think this is where our guy picks his targets.” She gave Barba an abridged version of the case as he flipped through the file.

“So Carisi and I pose as a couple, then what?”

“Hope they take the bait, try to work out who’s taking the photos. Our victim worked it out, perhaps he saw someone,” she explained. “It’ll have to be pretty under-wraps, make it look like Carisi is the only one investigating, not the whole team. We’ll be monitoring you the whole time, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Barba looked at Sonny, a half-smile playing on his lips. “I’m not worrying,” he echoed. Sonny’s heart fluttered.

They agreed to begin the next day, and Olivia dismissed the team. Barba swiftly left, pulling his coat back on and wrapping a scarf around his neck as he left. Sonny donned his own coat and tried not to watch the other man walk away.

“You going to be okay with this?” Amanda’s voice almost made him jump.

“Hm?” he questioned dumbly, turning to face her.

“What you told me last month. About certain feelings for a certain ADA,” she said.

Sonny shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s just a,” he paused, looking for the right word.

She smirked. “Crush?”

“I’m not twelve, Amanda.”

“Crush,” she stated.

“Whatever,” he smiled, before turning and leaving, waving goodbye over his shoulder.

As soon as he got outside, the cold winter air hitting him, he caught sight of Barba, leant against the wall, having clearly waited for him.

“Detective,” he greeted.

“Counselor,” Sonny said.

“Or should it be Dominick?” Barba asked wryly.

Sonny made a face. “Sonny.”

Barba seemed to turn his nose up at that, before pushing himself forward from his position against the wall. “I was thinking we should get our story straight. You’re welcome at my apartment, unless you have other plans.”

“TV dinner for one,” he replied good-naturedly.

Barba smirked. “I have a spare bedroom,” he offered. “Of course, after tomorrow it’d probably make more sense for you to join me in mine.”

Sonny felt himself blush. “Are you asking me to move in with you, Counselor?”

“I guess I am, Detective.”

*

They swung by Carisi’s apartment first, Barba telling him to pack a bag so they could go straight back to his the next day after their date, before they headed back to Barba’s apartment.

Barba’s apartment was a whole lot nicer than Sonny had expected. Not that he didn’t expect it to be good, he just thought it would be a whole lot more extravagant. Its design was definitely expensive, but it was understated, almost homely.

Sonny gestured to a seat at the counter in Barba’s kitchen. Barba nodded, rummaging in a draw for something Sonny couldn’t see, and he sat down. It squeaked slightly. Barba placed a number of takeaway menus down in front of him. Sonny offered a surprised look, but said nothing.

“What, did you think we weren’t going to eat?” Barba said.

“Take-out?” he replied, slightly surprised, holding up one of the menus. “I’m pretty sure this place is under watch by the FDA for hygiene violations.”

Barba shrugged. “Don’t pick that one, then.”

They chose dinner – Chinese – and Sonny placed the order as Barba retrieved two beers from his fridge. Barba placed it down and sat on the opposite side of the counter.

“So. Our story,” Sonny offered.

“I figured it’d make sense for us to have gotten together about a year and seven months ago. After the death threats,” he elaborated. “I mean, tensions running high, you on a security detail. If anything was going to happen…”

“It would have been then,” Sonny finished. “When did I move in?”

Barba shrugged. “A year ago.”

“I think our bigger question here, Counselor, is-”

“Rafael,” he intersected.

“What?”

“We’re dating, Carisi. You wouldn’t call me counselor,” Rafael said. “Unless,” he added coyly.

It was to Sonny’s credit that he didn’t choke. He stared blankly.

“Listen, Sonny,” he said, as if trying out the name. “I assume you realise what playing _bait_ means. You’ve seen the pictures Bryant and Johnson were sent.”

It sort of dawned on Sonny then. When he’d agreed to it, he hadn’t particularly thought it through. The images of Bryant and Johnson were compromising to say the least.

He must have been quiet for a while, because Barba seemed to take pity on him. “We can probably manage it with decent staging and a,” he paused, searching for the right term, “a state of tasteful undress.”

“We’ll work it out,” he said, albeit a little hoarse, changing the subject, “Our bigger question here, _Rafael_ , is why we’ve kept it quiet for so long.”

“I mean, I’m hardly the most public person. Think about how many personal details you know about me,” he replied. “And I could have a negative effect on your reputation on the force, having prosecuted those officers.”

Sonny nodded. “Could be seen as-”

“Fucking the enemy,” Barba said.

Sonny did choke then, and Rafael smirked. Before he could say anything else, the doorbell rang and Barba – _Rafael_ , Sonny had to keep correcting himself, rose to answer it. He returned a few moments later with dinner. He brought a couple more beers over.

“You know, I never took you for a take-out kind of guy,” Sonny said conversationally.

“I don’t cook on the first date,” he replied.

They settled into (surprisingly) pleasant conversation, on the pretence that their partnership would be fairly unbelievable if they knew minimal about each other. Sonny did most of the talking, particularly when it came to his family, which Rafael did not seem especially forthcoming with.

Soon enough it was getting late, and Barba cleared up and gestured to the guest room, after which he headed to his room, wishing Sonny a good night, tagging on a sarcastic _honey_ , which no matter how snide it sounded, made something warm settle in Sonny’s chest.

Sonny texted Olivia their backstory before he headed to the guest room, falling asleep on the cool sheets. He was _fucked_.

*

Sonny arrived at Barba’s a 5pm, with a freshly dry cleaned olive-green suit, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. His sister had bought it for him on one of her numerous attempts to dress him nearly a year ago, telling him it worked well with his skin tone and brought out his eyes. He had worn it a grand total of three times, two of which on occasions when he was meeting with Teresa. He knocked on the door, coat folded over his arm and bouncing on the balls of his feet, stopping immediately when Barba opened the door.

Rafael was wearing a navy suit with a crisp white shirt, an undone purple tie looped around his neck. His hair looked slightly damp and Sonny could smell his cologne, something which no doubt cost more than the combined cost of every cologne Sonny had ever bought in his life. He looked – although Sonny was biased – _very_ good. He frowned as he let him inside.

Sonny looked down at himself and then back at Barba. “Something wrong with the suit?”

“No, the suit’s good, uncharacteristically,” he replied. “It’s just the tie.”

He smoothed down the black tie. “What about it?”

“You’re wearing sixteen-hundred-dollar suit with a tie you probably bought in the sale at TJ Maxx.”

It was from Target, but that wasn’t the point. Carisi opened his mouth to complain, but Barba just left the room. Sonny sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. Rafael returned a few moments later, a burgundy silk tie in hand.

Sonny pulled his tie off, placing it on a counter, stopping himself from taking the impulsive step back as Barba approached him and wrapped the burgundy tie around Sonny’s neck and began to tie it. Sonny gulped and Rafael seemed to remember himself, releasing the tie and taking a step back.

“I can dress myself,” Sonny said, although for a moment he had seemed to forget just _how_ to tie a tie.

“Sometimes I have my doubts,” Rafael commented.

Sonny gestured vaguely at the tie once he had it on.

“Very snappy,” Rafael replied, tying his own.

Sonny tried not to grin at the compliment, even if the sarcasm it was laced with dampened its impact.

“Have you packed a bag?” Rafael asked.

“Yeah, Amanda’s bringing it over later,” he said.

“Okay, she can leave it in the lobby.”

They both threw on their coats and headed out of the door.

“You know, I think this is the fastest I’ve ever moved in with someone,” Sonny joked.

Barba huffed as he locked the door behind them.

*

Bellucci’s was a damn nice restaurant. He could tell as soon as he stepped foot on the luxury carpet on the way in. It was dimly lit, walls painted a rich red, and the aroma reminded Sonny of a winery he stopped at in Italy when he was visiting his grandparents. Sonny was certain he could never afford it, and he was pretty sure he recognized at least three people from the cover of _Time_ magazine sat eating. Rafael looked completely at home as he walked up to the front desk, offered his name and was lead to a table, with Sonny trying his best not to look like a lost puppy as he followed after him after he hung up his NYPD-issued jacket on a coat hanger in the reception, hoping that their guy would take the bait.

“We’ll have a bottle of Valpolicella, please,” Rafael ordered as they sat.

“I’m glad you’re here, I know nothing about wine,” Sonny said as the waiter left.

Rafael looked borderline offended. “You’re Italian, Ca– Sonny,” he said. “Do you care nothing of your heritage?”

“And I suppose you know how to cook,” he paused, trying to think of something, “steak palomilla.”

Half of Barba’s mouth quirked up in a slight smile. “I do, actually.”

The waiter returned with the wine then, Rafael taking a sip before giving what Sonny thought was a pretentious tiny nod, the type he remembered his father generally giving whenever they had wine. Once both their glasses were filled, they clinked them together and took a sip. It was _damn good_ wine.

Sonny was suddenly very aware that their cover was essentially to talk to each other and they had been silent for slightly longer than comfortable.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” he said conversationally as he read the menu.

“Some,” Rafael replied, seeming to debate offering up more information. Sonny almost thought he had decided against it, the pause slightly too long. “My abuelita taught me a little.” He looked somewhat reminiscent, a warmth in his features Sonny had rarely seen.

“Was she a good cook?”

“The best,” he replied. “She never wrote any of it down, she just knew it. I used to go to her apartment whenever things got too much at home, which was quite a lot. She always knew what to cook to make me feel better, and she used to sing while she did it. Celia Cruz, Myrta Silva, all that.”

“My nonna taught me to cook. Well, bake, mostly. Her father owned a pastry shop in Sicily,” he said. “The Carisi cannoli recipe is unrivalled.”

“Did she teach you that?” Rafael asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I look forward to trying it,” he said, the same half-smile as before playing on his lips.

Their waiter returned then and they ordered, Sonny finding the most normal thing he could – some ostentatious risotto – while Rafael picked some dish that even Sonny, with his limited Italian, would struggle to pronounce.

“You visit Italy much?” Rafael said conversationally.

“Hm?” Sonny was rather surprised at Rafael taking any interest in his life.

“Come on Sonny, this is a date. I have to at least _pretend_ to be interested in you.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” he said unintelligibly. “Sicily mostly. That’s where my grandparents were from, originally.

“You like it there?”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Sonny replied. “Warm, nice landscape. Great food. When I was a teenager I appreciated the lax drinking laws,” he added with a smile. “I haven’t been in nearly a decade, actually. What about you and Cuba?”

Rafael took a sip of his wine and shook his head. “We moved to New York when I was 4, so I don’t remember it much. I visited in my 20s, but that’s about it.”

Sonny noticed that the more Rafael drank, the more forthcoming he was in conversation about his personal life. Sonny kept ordering wine. He’d probably guess that what he had learnt about the ADA that evening already took up 50% of all details he knew about him, and Sonny made a mental note to get him drunk more often.

Not that Sonny usually found his companionship unpleasant, but the slightly tipsy Rafael was actually good company. He was warm and smiled easily, a spark in his eyes that Sonny had never seen outside the courtroom. He laughed at Sonny’s bad jokes and spoke animatedly, answering most of the questions his asked, although he did notice that he quickly steered any conversation about his parents away. It wasn’t until Sonny had excused himself and stood to go to the bathroom that he realised he too had drunk a little too much.

As he returned to the table, he checked his watch. 22:15.

“It’s about time we should go,” he said as he sat back down, pulling out the credit card he’d been given, flagging down a waiter for the check.

“Is this where police funding is going?” Rafael asked, faking an expression of scandalized.

Sonny smirked and paid, before standing and offering Barba his arm. With a slightly critical expression, Rafael took the offer and looped his arm in Sonny’s as they headed out. Sonny found himself helping Barba with his coat, and almost froze up remembering himself.

They left and flagged down a cab.

 _Black ford focus tailing you_ , Benson texted him before they arrived at Barba’s apartment block.

About ten minutes later she texted again.

_Cars been dumped, must be following on foot. We’ve lost him._

*

It wasn’t until they reached Rafael’s bedroom that it dawned on Sonny just how awkward faking the images was going to be. At least, he was thankful, they were sure they had been followed back.

“How do you want me?” Barba asked, a light humor playing on his voice. Sonny blanched. “How about we start with kissing?” He got up and walked over to where Sonny was standing in front of the window

“Um, okay,” Sonny responded.

Rafael frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes,” he replied, a little too quickly. _God yes_. He’d just have to try not to get a raging hard-on. He pulled Rafael towards him with a grip on his tie.

It was a good kiss, Sonny found himself thinking, but of course he’d think that. Rafael kissed how he thought he would – with the same sort of virility and drive as he had in the courtroom, somehow managing to be argumentative even without words. When he felt Rafael’s hands on his hips, pulling them against his own, Sonny desperately grasped at every unrousing image he could conjure.

The taste of Rafael in his mouth.

His last case in homicide.

The feeling of Rafael’s hips grinding against his own.

His parents.

The sight of Rafael dropping to his knees in front of him, below the view of the window, offering him some sort of explanation about making it _convincing_.

The nudist colony he’d accidentally stumbled across.

Barba stayed on his knees for a decent amount of time, glaring at Sonny when his instructions of playing along were ignored. Sonny did as best as he could, but Rafael was soon on his feet again, and told Sonny to take his trousers off. Dumbly, Sonny obeyed, as Rafael did the same and backed him onto the bed.

“Put your legs around my waist,” Rafael instructed, looking down at him, pulling the sheets over the top of them to obscure them from the view of the window, saving them from having to do anything particularly uncomfortable.

They stayed like that for a while, Rafael moving a little, and Sonny couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by how plain _weird_ , they must have looked. When Rafael moved off him and relaxed beside him, turning the lights off, he burst out laughing.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, turning onto his side away from the other man.

“Sonny, what is it?”

Sonny shook his head, and let himself relax into Rafael’s sheets.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again! please correct me on any mistakes! thank you for your response so far, it's been lovely. hopefully i'll get the final chapter up tomorrow! 
> 
> there's a lot more domesticity in here, and it's the chapter that i had written the least of yesterday, so i hope it's engaging enough? the next one's better imo but that's personal preference
> 
> as for warnings, there are references to past child abuse, and some references to rape/sexual harassment, but no more than there is in canon
> 
> also i’m basing the eggs thing on a friend of mine who is a brilliant cook but still doesn’t know basic methods like scrambling eggs lmao

Rafael hadn’t always been a morning person, but he’d developed a fairly rigid sleep schedule involving getting up at 6am since high school. The morning had been the easiest time for him to do work in his childhood, his father usually still asleep at that point.

It had been a long time since he’d woken up next to anyone. He hadn’t had a relationship in years, rather a handful of one-night stands, or a couple of people who would call him or he’d call late at night, no strings attached.

He had, rather unfairly of course, attributed some of the blame of his lack of partner to the man in bed with him at that very moment.

Rafael wasn’t generally one to deny his feelings to himself, just one to avoid acting on them. When Carisi had burst into his life, with a hideous dress-sense and worse mustache, Rafael couldn’t have predicted it. And yet, his traitorous heart developed some strange attachment to the detective. God knows why he volunteered his services. Maybe he was just masochistic.

The warmth in his chest as he silently watched Carisi’s sleeping form, his arm wrapped around his waist and their legs tangled together was almost painful. He carefully disentangled their legs and got up, pulling on trousers and a sweater before leaving his room, picking up his wallet, and taking his coat, heading out of the door quietly.

About two months ago, a French bakery had opened just down the street, the owners – Marie and Elise – usually setting up early, and since he’d discovered them he’d been a regular customer, dropping by every few mornings for a fresh loaf. He spoke the minimal French he knew, and while they occasionally laughed at him for it, they’d grown rather fond of each other.

“Bonjour, Marie,” he greeted as he entered the shop, handing over his money.

Marie was young, baby-faced even, brown hair pulled back into a bun, and she offered a warm smile. “Rafael, bonjour!” she pulled out a loaf of white bread and placed it on the counter.

She offered him his change but he put up a hand to decline it, taking the loaf, still warm, in his hands.

“Tu as l’air heureux,” she commented. He stared blankly. “I said, you look happy,” she said in accented English, smiling. “Qui est-il?”

Rafael held back the smile threatening to grace his mouth. “Nobody,” he replied, heading to leave.

“Good luck, Rafael!” she called after him.

He waved as he left, walking back up the street as the sun just began to peak over the horizon, the winter haze a misty backdrop against the New York skyline.

When he got back to his apartment, he took care to make sure he opened the door quietly, placing the loaf on the counter and glancing at the clock. He headed to take a shower, after which he pulled a dressing gown on. He returned to the kitchen, melting some butter in a pan, before knocking on the door of the bedroom.

Sonny jerked awake at the knock on the door to an empty bed, and the smell of fresh bread. He practically followed his nose out of the bedroom, walking out to a shower-fresh Barba, hair wet and engulfed in a dressing gown, frying something.

“You like scrambled eggs, right?” Rafael asked him.

“Yeah,” he answered, before peering into the pan as he walked past towards the table.

“Have you never seen scrambled eggs before, Carisi?” he asked at the curious look Sonny gave.

“Of course, it’s just I usually just do them in a mug and microwave them.”

The withering look Rafael gave him was something to behold. “That’s despicable, Sonny.”

The bread popped out the toaster before Sonny could respond, and Rafael buttered the slices before turning the contents of the pan onto them, bringing two plates to the table. Sonny stared at his food.

“It’s not poisoned,” Rafael said. “Do you want me to mash it up?”

Sonny cut the bread in half into triangles, taking a bite. The bread was really good, as were the eggs. A lot less dry than when he makes it. “I thought you said you didn’t cook on the first date.”

“We’ve had our first date,” Barba replied, eating his own food. “This is the morning after.”

They didn’t particularly talk much then, Barba electing to read the paper, and Sonny looking at his phone, although he did take the occasional glance over at the news upside-down in front of him.

Rafael rose from the table first, heading to get dressed, and he turned the paper around to face Sonny. Sonny glanced over the headlines, not taking much interest, skimming the rest of it. He noted that Barba had completed most of the crossword, and he found himself trying to think up some of the missing words.

Rafael returned a little while later, fully dressed.

“I’ve got some paperwork to go over at the office, so I’m going now,” he said. “See you later.”

“Oh, yeah! See you later,” he replied, mouth still full of food.

Barba rolled his eyes as he left.

*

Amanda sidled up to him as soon as Sonny got to work, that look on her face where he knew she was about to dig for information. She handed him a coffee as they settled down at their desks.

“How was the date?” she asked.

“You were watching from outside,” he replied. “You know how it went.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t hear your conversation. You both seemed to enjoy each other’s company.”

“Yeah, Barba’s not unpleasant once you’ve funnelled enough wine into him.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Amanda replied. “Talk about anything interesting?”

“Not particularly, small-talk mostly.”

“Small talk? Didn’t think Barba was capable of that.”

Sonny grinned. “Real shocker, right?”

Sonny was quite thankful that in the ensuring conversation Amanda didn’t bring up their posing for the photos. He wasn’t too sure how he’d go about explaining that. He talked a little about what they spoke about, but if he was honest he didn’t remember a lot of it.

“He made you breakfast?” she asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy do that for me, let alone one who I was only _pretending_ to be in a relationship with.”

“I think he’s taking pity on me,” he replied.

“Pity? For what?”

“I don’t know, but there’s got to be something,” Sonny said. “I can’t think of another reason for him to be this nice to me.”

Amanda laughed. “Well, you are pretty hopeless.”

*

“Success,” Rafael said as Sonny walked in the door that evening, holding up an opened brown envelope.

Sonny walked over, taking the envelope out of his hands and pulling out the photos. He flicked through them, spending little time looking at their contents. He splayed them out on the table before retrieving the note inside.

“Can’t wait to explain these to Liv,” Rafael said as he looked at the pictures.

“It’s to the point,” Sonny said, reading the note. “ _Johnny Fisher – make the case disappear or I send this to your boss_ ,” he read.

“Johnny Fisher?”

Sonny frowned. “Small-time stalking case, pretty open and shut.” He turned the paper over, looking for anything more to no avail. “Have you got the case notes around here?”

“Yeah,” Rafael nodded, getting up and retrieving the case file from where it sat on the coffee table. He returned and placed it on the table. “Does Fisher have any connection to the cases Bryant was asked about?”

“That’s what I’m trying to work out,” he replied, flicking through the file. Three separate cases, seemingly unrelated. He pulled out the three pages of notes on Bryant’s cases.

“Louis Carter, 26,” Rafael read. “In line for inheriting his father’s multi-million-dollar company. Sexual harassment.” He flicked to the next sheet of paper. “Edmund Willis, 25, rape in the second degree, son of congresswoman Grace Willis.”

They both seemed to connect them, then. “Andrew Preston, 23, son of one of the partners at Preston-Morris Law,” Sonny read. “What are the chances Johnny Fisher’s family has a reputation to maintain?”

 “Johnny Fisher wouldn’t happen to be the son of John Fisher, the banker, would he?” Barba asked, skimming over the notes again.

Sonny pulled out his phone and looked up the name. “Yeah, he is.”

“Okay, they’re all families with a reputation to maintain,” Rafael summarised, brow creased in thought. “No connection between the families or individuals?”

“No, we’ve already gone through that. Carter and Preston went to the same school, but I think that’s probably coincidence. There are only a couple of good private schools around here.”

Rafael looked up at Sonny. “So what, this guy’s a blackmailer for hire?”

“Looks like it,” he said. “I’ll text the Lieu.”

“What’s the time?”

“Quarter-to-nine,” Sonny answered. “Why?”

“There’s a new Thai place a few blocks away.”

*

When the second letter came a few days later, Rafael was alone. He wasn’t in court that day, and was working from his apartment. Sonny had already left, following up on the lead of the parents, but little was coming of it and he was getting increasingly stressed.

In some ways, Rafael was glad he had left early because it meant they wouldn’t get in each other’s hair too much. However, while he was loathe to admit it, he missed Sonny’s company, and their dinners the past few days had been preoccupied by Sonny’s frustration that the case wasn’t going anywhere. He was also loathe to admit that there was a small part of him in a strange way enjoying the case remaining unsolved. After all, once the case was over, Sonny would be out of there and they would return to being colleagues.

The letter came early afternoon, after he returned from grabbing some lunch, much smaller than the first and addressed only to him. He sent a quick text to Sonny.

 _Got a second letter_.

He pocketed his phone and opened the envelope, pulling out the letter inside. It was folded and he looked inside to check he hadn’t missed anything. He unfolded the letter. It was, on form, brief.

_Counselor, if your boyfriend doesn’t come through in the next two days, I’m sending them to your mother._

Below was what Rafael recognised as his mother’s address.

*

Rafael arrived at SVU nearly an hour later. He made a beeline to Sonny’s desk, finding it unoccupied. Amanda looked up from her computer.

“Are you alright, Counselor?” she asked with a frown.

He looked around the office again, before looking at her. “Yeah, have you seen Sonny?”

“Sonny?” she repeated teasingly.

“Detective Carisi,” he corrected, internally cursing.

She leant back in her chair. “Yeah, he’s in Liv’s office,” Amanda said. “She’s not there though, if you guys need to talk.”

He nodded his thanks and headed in that direction.

“Go easy on him, it’s been a long day,” she called half-heartedly after him, like she knew it wouldn’t have much effect.

Rafael walked into the office to see Sonny sat on the wrong side of Olivia’s desk, reading some handwritten notes he couldn’t make out. He could see the tension in his shoulders. Sonny turned the chair he was in as Rafael sat in one of the chairs at the back of the room.

“Hey, Rafael,” he greeted, a little tiredly.

Some of the anxiety Rafael felt faded a little. “Hey. You got a minute?”

“Sure,” Sonny nodded, sparing a glance at the pages on the desk behind him.

“How’s that lead going?” he asked.

“Not well,” he replied. “Carter’s the only one who talked, and he just said that he never met the guy, just put the cash in a locker at an address he was sent by a friend.”

“What about the friend?”

“Never met our guy either, apparently,” Sonny said. “Looks like it was all word of mouth. That’s how a lot of these things work. We’ve got nothing,” he sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

Rafael shifted. “We got another letter.”

“I know, you told me,” he said.

“He’s threatening to send the pictures to my mother if nothing happens with Johnny Fisher in the next two days.”

Sonny deflated. “I’m sorry, Rafael. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know if _I_ can do anything,” he said pointedly.

There was a beat of silence.

“What do you expect me to do about it, Counselor?” Sonny asked, frowning.

 _Counselor?_ Rafael clenched his jaw. “I don’t know, _Detective_.”

Sonny stopped and tried to understand what Rafael was implying. “I can’t just _lose_  evidence,” he said, “and frankly, I’m surprised you’re asking me to.”

“I’m not,” he stressed, frustrated. “What about faking it?” He was scrabbling at suggestions and he knew it.

“Faking it?” Sonny repeated, sounding incredulous. “How? And what happens if that goes wrong?” Sonny replied harshly. “Look, why don’t you just call your mother?”

Rafael huffed. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” he said, a little testily. “You come here to ask me to sort it out for you, but you won’t let yourself in for a little discomfort when it’s a damn sight easier for you to deal with.”

“A little discomfort?” he repeated.

Sonny sighed. “Look, I know you’re not close.” It was the start of a sentence, but Carisi never went anywhere with it.

“How would you feel if it was you?” he said, before answering the question himself. “Oh, wait, I forgot. You tell them everything. You could do no wrong,” and God, did he sound bitter.

Rafael watched as the jibe hit and Sonny’s face closed up in annoyance. “Don’t bring my family into this.”

“Why not, Carisi?” he replied. “My mother could barely stand to see me hold hands with another man, let alone see borderline pornographic images of me with one,” he said. “It’s not a conversation I want to have again.”

“Get over it,” he said, sounding doubtful even as he started saying it, like he only said it to finish the argument, like he was trying to be harsher than he really meant and it was regretted before he even finished the sentence.

Rafael set his jaw and stood to leave.

“Rafael, wait–”

He didn’t. Rafael headed straight to out of the building, hailing a cab to head back to his apartment.  As he sat in the cab he bounced his leg, trying to tell himself that all he felt was irritation, that the hurt wasn’t there, and that Sonny wasn’t right.

A few minutes passed, and he pulled out his phone, dialling. “Hola, Mamí.”

*

Sonny returned to the apartment a couple of hours later, a bottle of white wine and a bag full of fresh sushi in hand, to Rafael talking on the phone. He hung by the door for a moment, and Rafael turned to face him, gesturing him to come in.

“Lo sé,” Rafael said down the phone, signalling for Sonny to put the bag and bottle on the table. “Okey, okey. Tengo que irme ahore.” He paused, closing his eyes and sighing. “No te pidiendo que. Sí, sí. Te quiero.” He hung up.

Sonny watched as Rafael let out a long breath, putting his phone down, weak guilt growing in his gut. “I brought sushi. From that place near the courthouse,” he said weakly, feeling a little awkward.

“The courthouse?” Rafael said as he got a couple of wine glasses out. “That’s not on your way back.”

He took the sushi out the bag, putting the two portions he got on either side of the table. “Yeah, I swung round.”

Rafael looked at him, eyes softening. “Thank you.” He poured the wine as they sat to eat.

“I’m sorry,” Sonny said after a few moments of silence.

“No, I was being irrational, Sonny,” Rafael replied. “I don’t think you could’ve done anything. I was just-” he paused, searching for the right word, “stalling.”

“Still,” he said, “I shouldn’t have said what I did. Especially because I don’t really know anything about your family in the first place.”

“I shouldn’t have brought your family into it at all.”

They found themselves sitting in silence – it wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, but it hung in the air like a stench.

Rafael was the one who broke it. “I should probably count myself lucky that my father’s dead. I think if it were him instead of my mother he’d kill me.”

Sonny didn’t look up from his food. “I think that’s a little melodramatic.”

Rafael smiled, although Sonny could tell it wasn’t particularly happy. “It’s really not,” he said.

Silence descended again, and Sonny found himself curious, but didn’t want to pry, particularly because it was clearly a touchy subject for Rafael. As he often did, Rafael seemed to read his mind and answered anyway.

“He caught me with a boy from school when I was fifteen,” he said. “I was in the hospital for a week.”

His head snapped up. “Christ, Raf.”

“He told my mother. He didn’t tell her a lot of things, but he told her that, of course,” Rafael continued. “At that point, she told me that it was wrong, but I’d grow out of it. When I _came out_ ,” he said the words as if he had put quotation marks around them, “I was twenty, and she told me that it was a stupid choice, and I was to never talk about it with her again. I haven't, and we get on fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Sonny said, at a loss for words.

“I haven’t spoken to her about that part of me in 17 years,” Rafael added. “That’s why I would have preferred to avoid it.”

Sonny was quiet for a moment. “Thank you,” he said, finally.

“What for?”

“Telling me,” Sonny replied, and the look of pleasant surprise Rafael shot him spread warmth throughout his chest.

The sushi was almost gone by then, and they finished it quickly, both of them getting up and clearing it away before going to sit on opposite ends of the couch, Rafael handing Sonny the remote while he opened a book. He settled on some nature documentary he probably wasn’t going to pay attention to.

They stayed there for a long time, only the dim light from Rafael’s lamp and the glow of the television illuminating the room, the documentary offering a quiet hum. Sonny found himself drifting, the exhaustion catching up to him.

He shut his eyes, and he must have dozed off, because when he opened them, Rafael had turned the TV off and was shaking his shoulder. He was still sat next to him, and Sonny must have swayed closer to the middle of the couch, because their faces were awfully close. Sonny was sure he could hear Rafael’s breath, the room otherwise silent.

“Hey,” Rafael said quietly. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate falling asleep on the couch, if you wanted to go to bed now.”

Sonny nodded, but he was distracted by the movement of Rafael’s mouth, and found himself staring at his lips. Rafael’s lips were parted, and when Sonny looked up to his eyes he was met by a steady, warm gaze, until his eyes flitted down to Sonny’s mouth.

Add his own heartbeat to the mix of sounds he could hear.

Some unknown cosmic forced must have pulled them closer, because Sonny couldn’t remember moving on his own accord, but Rafael’s face was just inches from his own.

Rafael’s phone pinged loudly.

They both pulled away, the draw relaxed, and Rafael checked his phone. He didn’t clarify what it said, but he closed his phone immediately after reading it. He stood, offering a hand to Sonny, who took it and hauled himself to his feet. They trailed into the bedroom, and Sonny quickly fell into a dreamless sleep.

*

The day _started_ well. Rafael allowed himself a few more selfish minutes in bed when he woke up with Sonny pressed against his back and his arms looped around his waist, and while the near-kiss of the night before played on his mind, he was in a good mood. He had court early that morning, so he bought Sonny a croissant from the bakery and left him a note, throwing away the first attempt after some non-existent subconscious part of him automatically finished it with a kiss, before leaving the apartment before Sonny was even awake.

The case he was working was going well too – it wasn’t working with SVU on it, so he didn’t have much contact with the unit in his working day – challenging enough for him to find it interesting, but still pretty clear they were going to win it.

He got the phone call from Benson on the steps of the courthouse just after 3pm.

“Barba,” he answered, not looking at his phone.

“Rafael, it’s Olivia,” she said, with a voice he had heard her use for working with victims and their families rather than directed at him. Something cold grew within him.

“What’s happened?”

She paused. “I don’t want you to rush down here, but Carisi’s in the hospital.”

The world stopped and his ears rang. It took him a few moments to snap out of it. “Which hospital?”

“Rafael, look-”

“Which hospital, Liv?” he stressed.

“Presbyterian,” she replied. “But Rafael-”

He hung up, rushing down the steps and hailing a cab.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey we're done!

“Dominick Carisi,” Rafael said as he arrived at the front desk. The woman seemed to recognise him, as if she had been given a description, and didn’t ask any questions other than for his name.

“Room 52,” she said.

He took off, walking briskly down the corridor, looking at the numbers as they passed him until he found number 52. He burst in the door, panic coursing through him and expecting the worst – Sonny unconscious, Sonny shot, Sonny pale and dying.

Sonny was more or less fine. He looked a little put out, gripping an ice pack to the side of his forehead, talking to Liv, who stood in the corner, and his eyes lit up when he looked at Rafael.

“Hey!” he greeted.

“You okay?” Rafael asked, out of breath.

“What?” Sonny said, seemingly distracted by whatever he was talking to Benson about, before remembering himself and removing the ice pack for a moment as if to remind himself it was there. “Oh, yeah. Superficial. I haven’t even got a concussion.”

“I tried to tell you he was fine,” Olivia cut in.

Rafael let the relief flood over him and he leant back against the wall next to the door. “What happened?”

“Some guy jumped me,” Sonny explained. “Slammed my head into the wall, that’s where this came from,” he gestured vaguely to his head. “He told me to back off, so I guess we’re looking in the right places.”

“Did you get a look at him?”

“That’s what we were about to go through,” Benson said, and Rafael noticed for the first time that she was holding a notepad and pen.

Sonny pressed the ice pack back to his head with a wince. “About 6”1, well-built. He was wearing a mask though, so I didn’t get a good look at his face. I think he had a New York accent.”

Rafael watched as Sonny removed the ice pack and placed it on the bed he was sat on the edge of. A bruise was already spreading against the side of his head, and a long cut ruled his hairline, but it wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. It wasn’t pretty, but Rafael knew it could have been a lot worse and he was struck by an overwhelming need to touch Sonny, check he was okay, still breathing.

“I think we’ve gone over what we need to here,” Liv said, glancing between them. “Go home, Carisi. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she patted Rafael on the shoulder as she left, closing the door behind her.

He stayed by the door. “What did the doctor say?”

“I’m free to go,” Sonny replied. “Just to keep an eye on it, keep it clean, all that.”

“Good,” he nodded, a little unsure of what to say.

Sonny gave him an odd look. “I haven’t eaten; do you want to get an early dinner on the way back? Miss the dinner rush.”

“Yeah, uh,” he rubbed the back of his head, “sure.”

*

It was dark by the time they got back. Rafael hadn’t said much at dinner, or in the cab over to his apartment, but when on the way into the building, his hand did rest a little too long on the bottom of Sonny’s back. As soon as they got in, he told Sonny to take a shower while he made some coffee.

Sonny returned a short time later, dressed in a battered academy t-shirt and sweatpants, hair a mess, to a hot cup of coffee and a fresh ice pack on the table in the kitchen, alongside Rafael’s discarded tie. Rafael himself leant against a counter nearby. Sonny caught the sound of the radio in the background, something quiet and melancholic – _Nat King Cole_ , some obscure part of his brain supplied – and he was quite aware he was being watched when he took a sip of the coffee and leant against the counter opposite Rafael.

“You’re hovering,” he commented. “It’s fine. You can have another look, if you want,” he offered, not really expecting Rafael to do anything.

He was wrong. The other man moved towards him, one hand tilting his head and the other brushing hair out of the way. Sonny had seen in the mirror – it was already bruised, the cut running upwards from his temple against his hairline freshly closed. It was a mess, but he’d had worse.

One of Rafael’s hands fell away, but the other stayed, and with a touch of awe, Sonny watched a strange look cross Rafael’s face. He swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close to each other they were, and how Rafael’s hand was cupping his jaw.

Sonny let himself be pulled forward gently, and Rafael pressed a brief kiss to his lips, soft, _real_ , before pulling back.

Barba frowned. “Sonny,” he started.

Sonny placed a hand on the back of Rafael’s neck and pulled him in for another kiss, deeper this time, and Sonny could taste the coffee he had seen Rafael drinking earlier in his mouth. It was nothing like before – more tentative, more gentle than he imagined it would be, at least at first. He could feel one of Rafael’s hands in his hair, the other looping around his waist and pulling him close. His own hands settled on Rafael’s hips as their kissing became increasingly desperate, Rafael kissing like a nymphomaniac on death row.

“Bedroom?” Rafael panted after a few minutes, and Sonny nodded shakily, letting himself be led.

He also let himself be pushed down onto the bed, legs dangling over the edge, Rafael kissing him more as he straddled him, hands reaching below Sonny’s waistband. Suddenly, Rafael was off him, standing at the foot of the bed and between his spread legs.

Sonny sat up and looked up at him. “What are you doing?”

Rafael dropped to his knees, pulling the sweatpants down smoothly. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Sonny made some sort of urgent noise and Rafael took him in his mouth.

“Fuck, Raf,” he cursed.

Rafael offered only a hum in response, the vibrations shooting up his spine, and Sonny found himself somewhat thankful that Rafael’s hands pressed his hips harshly into the bed, preventing him from thrusting too deeply.

One of Sonny’s hands found its way to Rafael’s hair, surprisingly soft, and he gripped it, taking care not to pull too tight. Rafael responded by taking him deeper than Sonny thought was possible, nose almost pressing against his abdomen.

Sonny had received plenty of blowjobs in his life – he had always been fairly attractive, and a lot easier in his youth – had plenty of good ones, several great ones, and a couple of outstanding ones, but Rafael was in a world of his own. Sonny was suddenly very aware of just how close he was, and he took Rafael’s hands in his own and pushed him off him.

“I’m gonna–” he trailed off breathlessly.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Rafael asked, voice hoarse.

He shook his head. “I want to-” he started, before stopping, realising the only thing he wanted was it not to be over yet.

Rafael pushed him back down and climbed on top of him, kissing him deeply once more. Sonny could taste salt on his lips. “Do you want to fuck me?”

Sonny found himself nodding before he thought he’d processed the question. Rafael climbed off him, letting him adjust himself further onto the bed while he retrieved a condom and lube from the nightstand.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Sonny murmured, realising that Barba was still fully dressed, erection pressed against his suit pants. In response, Barba threw Sonny the condom and lube, and took his clothes off, more-or-less. His shirt was still on, but unbuttoned.

He moved to lie beside Sonny, pulling him on top of him as Sonny rolled the condom on, coating its outside in lube. “Have you done this before?”

“A couple of times,” Sonny responded, pressing another kiss to Barba’s mouth, squirting some more of the lube onto his fingers. He shifted back onto his knees, pushing a slick finger into the man in front of him.

He got to three fingers before Rafael huffed. “Get on with it, Sonny.”

“You’re so demanding,” he joked weakly as he lined up behind him. He pressed inside slowly, overwhelmed at the pressure and heat, halting once fully in to adjust. Rafael’s eyes were clenched shut, and he looked fairly strained. Sonny frowned. “You okay?”

Rafael nodded enthusiastically. “Move,” he bit out, legs hooking around Sonny’s hips in an attempt to instate some sort of rhythm.

Sonny obliged, and took Rafael’s cock in his hand, matching the pace – a little faster, a little rougher than Sonny would usually choose – Rafael had set, and he was quickly coming undone beneath him, a litany of curse words, mostly in Spanish, murmured into his ear.

He felt Rafael’s fingers scrape at his scalp, and Sonny swallowed his name on Rafael’s lips. He picked up the pace, and soon Rafael came with a cry, come spurting onto his stomach, and just the look on Rafael’s face and the noise he made pushed Sonny to a final, deep, thrust.

He collapsed next to Rafael, breathless. Rafael turned onto his side, again gently cupping his jaw, and pressing a kiss to his lips.

They took a few minutes to very half-heartedly clean up, before falling into bed next to each other again. Rafael pressed a final kiss to Sonny’s forehead, and Sonny listened to the sound of Rafael’s heart as he fell asleep.

*

Rafael wouldn’t call what he did running away, but it was pretty damn close. He’d left Sonny to wake up to no one, the left side of the bed cold, and no smell of cooking. Not the best morning-after, he thought guiltily, walking briskly up the road in the cold morning air.

That ran through all the reasons he could think of as to why he felt the need to get out of there. That it was a mistake – he had been worried, and Sonny had a head injury. That it wasn’t for the best – he was 10 years older, and them being together could screw up Sonny’s reputation if he wanted to become a lawyer, and Rafael was hardly well-liked on the police force anyway. That it would only end in pain – Rafael was too much of an asshole, and Sonny was too good to put up with that.

He ran through every bullshit excuse he could think of that wasn’t that he was shit-scared that he could imagine a life with Sonny.

He’d mulled it over the whole day, and was currently sat in his kitchen, the morning-after turning into the afternoon-after and the evening-after. The coffee in front of him had long since gone cold as he anxiously waited for Sonny to return home.

While he’d been waiting for it, the door opening made him jump. Sonny entered, rambling away about the case.

“We made some real head-way today,” he said, turning to shut the door. “Turns out there’s a guy who’s rented a locker every time the money gets dropped. We don’t have his name, but once we go through the security footage or create a set-up, we should be good.” He paused then, looking closer at Rafael, and his brow creased in concern. “You okay?” he asked.

Rafael laughed shakily, no humor behind it. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”

Sonny walked over slowly. “Are you sure? You don’t look it.”

He nodded, opening his mouth to talk, but unusually finding no words to say.

“Why did you leave this morning?” he put his hands on his hips.

“I-” he started. “Listen, Sonny,” he took a breath. “I don’t think this is the best idea.”

Rafael watched hurt, sadness, concern and anger cross over Sonny’s face. “Not the best idea?”

“Last night was a mistake,” it _wasn’t_ , it really wasn’t, a voice inside his head said. “I think it would be for the best if it didn’t go any further.”

Sonny clenched his jaw and nodded. “Right, right,” he turned, as if to leave, then swung back around again. “Actually, no. Couldn’t you have thought of that before last night?”

“It’s not…” he attempted to convey the reasons he’d talked himself out of anything happening between them earlier. “It won’t work out.”

“What are you, psychic?” he asked sarcastically.

“Carisi-” Rafael started.

“ _Carisi_? What happened to Sonny?” he said. “So, what was the idea here? You sleep with me, then dump me the next day?”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “No, Sonny.”

“Is that why you volunteered?”

“No!” he said. “Sonny, I’m sorry.”

“You’re _sorry_?” he stressed. “God, you’re an asshole. I can’t do this. I’m leaving.”

“You can’t.”

Sonny turned, a look on his face Rafael had never seen. “I can’t?”

“Our cover, Sonny,” he replied quietly.

He let out a huffed laugh. “Of course. I can’t wait for this case to be over,” he started walking. “I’ll take the guest room.”

“I don’t have any clean sheets,” Rafael protested.

“Okay,” he replied. “Then you’re taking the couch.”

Rafael didn’t protest, staying sat as he listened to Sonny effectively storm into the bedroom, chest hurting and trying to tell himself that he did the right thing. It was for the best, in the long-term. 

*

Rosa Ramirez was the CEO of an up-and-coming app development firm, partner of NYPD detective Karen Porter, and was currently sat in Benson’s office with red-rimmed eyes, a fading black eye and her phone clutched in a white-knuckle grip. Carisi stood leant against the doorframe.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Benson asked.

“Karen and I. We’ve been seeing each other for nearly two years,” she started. “We kept it quiet on account of both of our families being religious and her partner at the NYPD being less than accepting.

“About three months ago we started receiving photos. Asking for things like money from me, and information from Karen, or else they’d send them to our families, the NYPD. We went along with it, but Karen was looking into it. Investigating.”

“Do you know how far she got with it?” Benson pressed.

Ramirez shook her head. “No, she wouldn’t tell me. We’ve always had an agreement that we’d talk about her work as little as possible, she didn’t like to bring it home with her. But about a week ago, some guy dragged me into an alley on the way home. He punched me and told me to back off.”

Carisi stood upright, suddenly aware of the bruising on the side of his forehead. “Did you see his face?”

“No, it was dark and he wore a mask.” she replied. “But he was about six-foot, kind of burly. I think he sounded local. He had blue eyes, though. I could see them through the mask.”

She sounded unsure, but Benson glanced to Sonny, who nodded.

“Okay,” Benson nodded. “Can you tell me why you’re here today?”

Ramirez unlocked her phone, barely daring to glance at it as she did so. “Yesterday, I didn’t see her. I thought she’d left early or something. She slept on the couch that night, we’d had a fight.

“Last night, I received this from her number,” she handed it over. It was an image of a woman – Benson realised was probably Porter – dimly lit, slightly blurry. She was unconscious, beaten, blood dripping from her nose and mouth. There was no accompanying message. “She showed up at my apartment this morning. Left outside the door. I took her straight to the hospital. After that I came here.”

“And why did you come here?” Benson asked.

“There were signs of sexual assault,” Ramirez said, voice slightly hoarse, but words firm, as if she’d practiced saying them. “And Karen mentioned something about a blackmail case reaching the SVU. I don’t think she knew much about that, though. I think she was getting close.”

“Alright,” Benson stood, placing a hand on Ramirez’s shoulder. “Thank you for talking to us.”

She gestured for Sonny to walk with her as they left.

“Same description,” she commented. “That’s got to be our guy. No signs to point to more than one suspect.” Once they reached the bullpen, she put a hand on Carisi’s arm to bring them to a halt. “Be careful, Carisi. We’re getting closer, it’s a higher risk. We’re going to have to put a security detail in Barba’s apartment building, or within sight at all times.”

“I’ll go talk to Rollins. Run Ramirez’s description against the suspects from my description, see if we get anywhere,” he started to leave.

“Do you know where Barba will be? We should warn him,” Benson added.

“Court,” Sonny shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him today, he slept on…” he paused, something ugly settling in the pit of his stomach, “the couch.”

Worry flashed across Benson’s face. “Call him. I’ll send a squad car.”

Sonny did as he was told, every unanswered ring increasing his anxiety. It went to voicemail, and he hung up, immediately trying again. He glanced worriedly at Benson, who returned the look. Again, voicemail. He tried a third time, and the same. He paced.

“Carisi, he’s probably working,” Benson offered. “Don’t jump to conclusions until the officers I sent report back.”

Sonny shook his head, “I’m going down there.”

“Hang on, Carisi,” she said, “I’ll call Carmen.”

Sonny paced more, attracting attention from Fin and Amanda, Fin looking up from his desk and Amanda heading over. Sonny was vaguely aware of Olivia talking to Carmen in hushed tones.

“She hasn’t seen him,” she said as she hung up. Sonny let out a raspy breath, making a weak noise at the back of his throat.

“What’s going on?” Amanda asked, placing a hand on Sonny’s back.

“We can’t get a hold of Barba,” Olivia said. “No one’s seen him today.”

“I’m going to the courthouse,” Carisi stated, pulling away from Amanda’s touch.

Olivia stood in front of him. “To do what, Detective? We know he’s not there, what use will you be over there?”

“We should track his phone,” Amanda suggested.

“Already on it,” Fin said from behind his computer. “It’s off, but the last signal was from a few minutes ago at the entrance to a parking garage on the other side of town.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Sonny said, already ready to go.

Amanda grabbed his arm. “Hold up. There are hundreds of cars there. It’d take all day and we can’t search them all. We’ve got to work this out.” She pulled him over to a board where they’d put up photos of everyone who was in the restaurant that night and who had matched Sonny’s description.

“None of them have blue eyes,” Sonny said, a little hopeless. “It’s none of them.” He sat, bouncing his leg with nervous energy, trying to come up with any ideas. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind and he stood back up. “We’ve been assuming it was the Ford Fusion, the vehicle, but we haven’t seen it since and it didn’t follow us all the way back. What other vehicles were on the street?”

Amanda had already spread their ongoing file onto the desk, and she spread out the various shots they had taken from security cameras. “Other than the Ford Fusion, none of them appear in every one.”

“What about all but one?”

She scanned over them again. “Blue sedan, missing on the night our second couple were there, and a grey van, missing on yours.”

Sonny picked up one of the photos to look at the van. “I’ve seen this van. It must have been out of shot.”

Amanda took the picture out of Sonny’s hands, handing it to Fin. “Get a match on the plate.”

A few seconds passed as Fin typed. “Stephen Sherman, 35, multiple assault charges up until his mid-20s, then it stops. Multiple arrests, no charges since then. 6”1, well-built.”

“That’s got to be him,” Liv said, gesturing the others over to look at the photo.

“Blue eyes,” Sonny finished.

“Let’s go.”

*

As soon as they left the building, Sonny was restless and everything seemed to take too long. The drive took forever, and he kept glancing at his phone in worry that he would receive the same message Ramirez had, and locating the van on the security footage was achingly slow. Immediately after seeing it was on level 3, bay 102, he shot off towards the elevator, Rollins following in pursuit.

“He’ll be okay,” she said, as the elevator moved painfully slowly down the levels.

Sonny didn’t reply, feeling like if he opened his mouth, nothing coherent would come out.

The doors slid open and they dashed out, Sonny running down the bay numbers as they went. Eventually, they found the grey van, and he moved behind it to the back doors. Hand gripped on the handle, he gestured to Amanda, and she cocked her gun at the door.

Pulling the doors open revealed a beaten and bloodied Rafael, pushed against the side of the van by Sherman, who was pressed against his back. Sherman had his hands on Rafael’s belt, like he had just unbuckled it.

Sonny counted his blessings that Amanda was there, because otherwise he would have gone for the headshot.

She shot him in the shoulder. Sherman flung away from Rafael, clutching it in pain, and Rafael sunk down the side of the van, turning himself around so that he was no longer faced against the wall. Sonny let Amanda enter the van first, and she removed him quickly, nodding at him as she read Sherman his rights.

He clambered into the van, crouching next to Rafael. Up close, he wasn’t as beaten as he’d initially thought, although he was breathing heavily. A black eye was already forming, and blood was streaming from his mouth (Sonny imagined he’d bitten his cheek when he got punched). He lifted a hand to cup his cheek, both their bodies relaxing in relief. Sonny sat down next to Rafael, pulling an arm around his shoulder, leant forward a little to look at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’ve been better,” Rafael replied, voice harsh. Sonny felt him lean his head on his shoulder. “I think I have a concussion.”

“We’ve got an ambulance on its way,” Sonny said.

Rafael looked up and met his worried eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, slurring his words, “I was wrong.”

“The great Rafael Barba admitting he was wrong? You must be concussed,” he joked half-heartedly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, and Sonny moved away so he could look him in the eye, shifting around to face him. “You scare me.”

Sonny stared in silence. “That’s not a great apology, Rafael.”

Rafael _almost_ glared, although it didn’t seem to have much barb behind it. “What I feel for you,” he stopped, like the words were an effort to say. “It scares me,” he corrected. “I was a coward, and quite frankly, an idiot, and-” Sonny realised then just how pale he looked. “I think I might be sick.”

Sonny rushed to place a hand on his back as he swayed a little and took a few deep breaths. He let his head rest backwards onto the side of the van, nausea passing.

“We can do this later,” Sonny said.

Rafael met his eyes for a moment, before he leant forward and gripped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him towards him. The kiss was sloppy, and Sonny was pretty sure he could taste blood, but he brought his hands up to cup Rafael’s face as the reality dawned on him. _God_ , he could have died.

They parted, foreheads pressed together, as the sirens of the ambulance sounded outside.

*

When the sun rose just after half-past seven in the morning and the light seeped through the curtains, Rafael, for the first time since he was a child, wasn’t out of bed. He was awake, head resting on Sonny’s chest, with their legs twisted together under the sheets.

A few days had passed, although a lot of it had blurred together for him, some of it in the hospital, and some of it back at the apartment, Sonny an ever-present figure in his addled memory.

There hadn’t been much damage, and it felt a whole lot worse than it was, but he had painkillers for that. He had a couple of fracture ribs, but he had avoided any breaks or internal bleeding, and most of his injuries were cuts and bruises, for which he supposed he should be grateful.

Sonny was good. He was _too_ good, and Rafael felt wholly too old and too bitter. He had said that to Sonny himself, under a heavy dose of painkillers, and Sonny had been, once again, too nice – he had kissed him, told him that didn’t matter, and that all the criticisms he had of himself should be Sonny’s decision to make.

So as he lay in bed with the man he was certain he was falling in love with, he felt, for the first time in a long time, entirely serene.

And when Sonny’s eyes fluttered open and he pressed a sluggish kiss to his forehead, slurring a good morning, he knew there was no place he’d rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update, october 2018:  
> hi! I don't know if anyone's reading this still (I still get kudos occasionally so presumably, they are, and if you're reading this, you are too), but I'm about to orphan this work for a number of reasons (my other - better, honestly - svu fic will remain attached to my account, however, if you know which one that is!). 
> 
> I don't really feel like going into it, but the main reason is that I'm not particularly comfortable with nsfw work appearing on my profile anymore. I think there is a problem with fetishisation of gay men within a lot of online communities. while I don't think that as a lesbian this was my own purpose, I feel that to an extent I was playing into it for attention. 
> 
> I really do not want anyone to feel that I am accusing them of this either, but I do think it may be worthwhile - if you are female-aligned and attracted to men or male-aligned people - to ask yourself why you read this, and other fics like it. if it was the plot (as this is fairly plot-heavy), fair enough! but if you are reading explicit m/m fics specifically to get off on them, especially ones like this with topics of angst, assault and other negative issues, it may be important to maybe recognise that. 
> 
> again, my honest apologies for if I perhaps seem rude, but I'm just tired. despite that, I do want to thank you all for your support and wish you all the best.
> 
> à la prochaine,  
> em


End file.
